Cant Get There From Here
by CorwinOfAmber
Summary: The Observer sets Peter straight about some things.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything and I dont make any money at this. Dont sue me because I'm poor and you wont get anything. Fringe rules._

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><p>Peter Bishop drifted through the throng of emergency vehicles converging on the abandoned hospital, leaving a stunned Olivia Dunham in his wake.<p>

Peter had intended to - well, to be honest, he hadn't known what he intended to do. So he found himself aimlessly wandering the dim streets of Boston, in a sort of Zen state of not wanting to think, until his late night meandering brought him back to the campus of Harvard University.

He found a familiar bench along the river and, gathering his coat around himself, sat down. It was here, ages ago and universes away, he had brushed his fingers across the back of Olivia's hand and told her she wasn't alone.

Peter smirked at the irony. He watched the sun rise, and the crimson light brought him a measure of peace.

When the sun was once again a golden orb, he decided to get the day started. Out of habit, he fished through his pockets for his phone, and found to his muted annoyance that it was missing. Oh well, who would he have called?

He was dimly aware, on some airy level of his consciousness, that he wasn't exactly of sound mind. The effects of over twenty four hours without sleep, the revelations while in the Observer's mind, and general stress were definitely taking their toll on his mental faculties.

Peter let his feet decide where to go next, and soon found himself back at the lab.

"Peter!" Walter looked up from the electric griddle he was bending over, "I was just about to start break..."

Walters eyebrows raised in alarm when he took in the sight of the young man before him. Peter was disheveled, with rising bruises on his head and neck, skin pallid, with dark circles underneath his eyes.

"Uh...Oh dear. Peter have you...slept?" Walter asked.

Peter merely shrugged and peered about.

"They're looking for you, you know?" Walter said. "Agent Van Buren called about a half hour ago. Have you talked with him?"

Peter shrugged again, and swayed like a tree in the breeze. Walter took his elbow and guided him to a nearby stool.

"Here...you have a seat. I'll go get something for those cuts..."

Walter disappeared into the bowels of the lab. When he reappeared at Peter's side, he was carrying his medical bag.

"Now...let's see what we can do about this..." he said.

Peter dimly saw a metallic glint at the edge of his vision, and felt a sharp pain in his neck. He stared dumbly at the empty syringe in Walters hand.

"What was that?" Peter's voice was hollow, Walter thought, uninterested.

"Thiopental. You're getting some sleep, whether you want to, or not. Now put your arm across my shoulders...there we go. I'd rather not have to drag you all the way across the lab, if I can help it."

Astrid Farnsworth walked into the lab, half an hour later, expecting to find Doctor Bishop making breakfast. When she found the electric skillet out, but no insane scientist, she became alarmed and started a search of the lab.

She found Peter, naked and unconscious, sprawled on Walters bed. Walter appeared at the doorway, his hands carrying an assortment of surgical tubing and a tube of lubricant.

"Ah! Aspergillis! You're just in time to help me with Peter's catheter!"

Lincoln Lee nudged his eyeglasses up from his nose and rubbed his eyes.

"So did Doctor Bishop have a scientific reason to put Peter into a medically induced coma? Or did he just need a guinea pig?"

Walter cut Astrid off before she could reply.

"Of course I had a reason! I suspected his trip into the Observer's mind may have disturbed his mental processes considerably. The Thiopental will tamp down the electrical activity in his brain, and hopefully he'll wake in a...reasonably normal mental state. I explained all of this last night!"

Astrid shook her head. "No, you didn't."

Walter looked puzzled. "I didn't?"

"No." Astrid insisted.

"Oh. Well I certainly meant to." Walter said remorsefully.

Lee sighed in exasperation. "We should get Peter to the hospital."

"There's nothing a hospital can do about this that I can not." interrupted Walter, "Actually, there is a lot that I can do that a hospital can not."

Lee glared at the older man. "Putting him in a coma is dangerous!"

"Nonsense! I put myself into a coma all the time!"

"My point exactly." Lee sighed, "How long is he going to be out?"

"About eighteen hours. Give or take an hour." Walter said.

"Eighteen hours? Ugh. We need someone here watching over him constantly. I'm going to go pick Olivia up from the hospital. So Astrid, stay here with Walter and keep an eye on Peter."

Astrid covered Peter's naked form with a blanket. Fortunately for everyone involved, she'd managed to convince Walter that he didn't need a catheter.

She could only imagine the father-son battle that would ignite when the younger Bishop woke up with a rubber tube up his urethra.

And truthfully, Astrid secretly hoped he'd wet the bed. Walter deserved no less.

She turned and screamed when confronted by the sight of a man wearing a grey suit and fedora. Then she drew her gun and leveled the sights on his chest.

"Don't move!" she commanded.

Walter appeared at the door, drawn by her scream.

"I need to speak to the Boy." The Observer declared.

Astrid and Walter looked at each other.

"If you mean Peter, you can't. He's in a Thiopental induced coma to recover from his ordeal." said Walter.

The Observer showed emotion for the first time they'd seen. He looked distinctly annoyed.

"That is...inconvenient." The Observer said.

Then both the Observer and Peter disappeared.


	2. Chapter 2

_I totally trolled you guys with the first chapter. The rest is mostly comedy, like this. Thanks for the reviews._

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><p>Dimly, as if something were blocking his ears, Peter became aware of a multitude of people screaming in the distance, and felt wind rushing across his face, and also heard a mechanical clanking noise.<p>

And he had to pee.

_Thiopental_, he thought. _Walter, I'm going to kill you. Hmm. I shouldn't be able to think right now_.

He began the long, laborious process of opening his eyes. His eyelids fluttered, and flickers of bright sunlight blinded him. Peter flinched. The sunlight sent waves of pain through his head.

"Good. You'll need your eyes open for the full effect." he heard a flat, affectless voice from his left.

Peter heard his mouth make nonsense syllables in reply. His tongue felt numb and swollen. With a prodigious effort, he forced his eyes to open and take in a glimpse of the world. What he saw was probably the last thing he expected.

He was in the front car of a roller coaster. Which was apparently just reaching the crest of the first hill. And he was completely naked.

Peter turned his head and stared, open mouthed, at the Observer sitting next to him. Who happened to be fully clothed, he noted.

"A roller coaster is the safest way to arouse someone from a Thiopental induced coma..." The Observer said in that maddening monotone, "This was proven in 2368 by Doctor Edward Hayes at Six Flags Antarctica."

The coaster plunged. Peter screamed like a little girl. On the plus side, he didn't have to pee after that.

The fedora stayed on the Observer's head through the whole ride.

Lincoln Lee held the car door open for a depressed, dejected and disheveled Olivia Dunham. Apparently, Peter's rejection had shaken her to the core. She gingerly got into the passenger seat, using the hand grip on the ceiling to ease herself into the seat.

Halfway back to her apartment, she finally spoke.

"Have you heard anything from Peter?"

"Uh...yeah. He's in a coma back at the lab." Lee replied without thinking.

Lincoln flinched. _Smooth, Lincoln, smooth_, he thought to himself.

Olivia's mouth dropped open in shock.

"Wha...what happened?" she pleaded.

"Don't worry...Doctor Bishop put him into the coma..." Lincoln tried to explain, but was interrupted by the buzzing of his cell phone.

"Oh, now it's alright if _Walter_ puts him into a coma? What the hell, Lincoln? Why isn't Peter in the hospital?"

Lincoln tried simultaneously to drive while answering his phone and indicating to Olivia that he would explain in just a minute.

"Agent Lee!" he said into his phone, "What? Astrid I gave you ONE job! Ok, ok. We'll be back at the lab in ten minutes, we'll figure out what to do then."

"What now?" asked Dunham.

"Uh..." Lee hesitated, his attention split between driving, his cell phone and talking to Olivia.

"Tell me!" Olivia demanded.

"Uh...Peter disappeared from the lab. It seems The Observer kidnapped him!"

At that moment, a car in the other lane crossed the yellow line, causing Lincoln to swerve. With one hand on the wheel, he lost control, and the black sedan plowed into a row of mail boxes and newspaper bins.

Lincoln exhaled slowly, and looked over at Dunham. Her emerald glare, judging his competence and finding it wanting, made him flinch.

"Gun." she said.

"What?" Lincoln replied.

"Give me your gun. I lost mine while I was kidnapped. You're going to be dealing with Boston PD for at least an hour. I'm going to go find Peter."

Lincoln handed his gun over. Olivia tucked it into her waistband and vanished down an alleyway before the cops arrived to pester them.

Peter found himself sitting on a cold metal bench in a park, still naked.

"Drink this." said September, "Quickly."

He held out a can of Red Bull. Being thirsty, Peter obediently took the can, opened it and took a sip. September reached out and tipped the bottom of can up, forcing him to gulp down the entire energy drink in ten seconds.

"What the hell?" Peter coughed, and wiped his chin. September handed him another can from the cardboard pack that sat on the bench between them.

"Quickly. You have to drink three more of these in the next five minutes, or the Thiopental will start to reassert itself. And we'll have to start over, at the roller coaster."

Five minutes later, Peter had consumed four cans of energy drink, and was simultaneously feeling buzzed and exhausted. It was a very unpleasant experience. He wondered if this was what Walter felt like, all the time.

But he was finally able to form coherent questions.

"Why are we sitting in a park? Why has no one noticed that I'm naked, and called the cops?" he asked.

"In nonscientific terminology, we are between tick and tock. Normal human beings can not perceive us, in the temporal space in which we dwell." explained September.

Peter nodded his comprehension, although he understood nothing. It seemed easier that way.

"I'm still going to want clothes..." he started.

"Look!" said The Observer, pointing.

Peter looked where September pointed. He saw two dogs. Then one dog mounted the other and started humping away.

"Why..." asked Peter, "Are we watching two dogs fucking?"

"I am going to explain what is colloquially referred to as The Birds and The Bees." answered September.

Peter looked at him incredulously. "Walter explained that to me when I was eleven."

"Good. We can skip that part." said September.

Then they vanished from the bench in the park, and reappeared in a hotel room in Baghdad, Iraq.


	3. Chapter 3

_Sorry about the delay in updating. Real life intruded._

_CorwinofAmber_

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><p>Olivia Dunham angrily stalked the streets of Boston, following a trail that only she could perceive.<p>

Having received her last dosage of Cortexiphan mere hours before, she was a pissed off Firestarter hopped up on drugs and out for revenge. And for once she was going to use that to her advantage.

When she'd realized that her abilities only worked to their fullest potential in Peter's presence, she'd also realized something else. That there must be some sort of connection between them, beyond the mundane. Peter was a part of her. Olivia thought she could use that connection to find him.

Although she didn't know where they stood in their relationship anymore - and she couldn't really blame him for that - she owed it to him. They always seemed to take turns saving each other, after all.

Olivia stopped at a street corner, closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to find a calm place inside herself where she could concentrate. Since it always calmed her down, she imagined Peter touching her - but that led to thoughts that didn't help her concentrate at all.

For some reason, white tulips kept blooming in her mind's eye. She pushed the visions aside and concentrated on finding the other half of her soul.

She opened her eyes, and then she saw it. It shimmered and wavered, cycling slowly through the all the colors of the rainbow. Not unlike how Peter shimmered when she was afraid.

Olivia followed the path towards the park by the river.

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><p>Peter watched himself meet Olivia at the hotel in Baghdad again. It was bizarre seeing the meeting once again, from a third person's perspective.<p>

It also made Peter somewhat jealous of his younger self. If only he could meet her again, for the first time.

"So, do I get a do-over? Is that what this is about?" he asked, unable to keep the hope from his voice.

Peter thought he heard a trace of sympathy in September's voice when he replied.

"No do-overs. You can't change your own past, that would violate causality. Violating causality...causes more problems than it solves."

"So why are we here?" Peter asked.

"I think I left my wallet here." replied September.

Peter glared at the bald, fedora-ed man.

"Are you on drugs?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Very possibly. You were on drugs when you projected yourself into my mind. Our brain waves synced in that shared dream state. So yes, I am on drugs."

September handed him another four pack of Red Bull.

"Drink that, the Thiopental is going to reassert itself soon. Then we have to go."

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><p>Olivia followed the path she perceived to the steel and wood bench by the Charles River. Of course, Peter wasn't there now, but she had a definite feeling he had been, and recently.<p>

She exhaled loudly and sat down on the bench and stare at the river...and her mind was suddenly filled with images and impressions . Reeling, she fought back a wave of nausea as she felt a completely new memory insert himself into her mind's eye.

This was completely different from the way she'd recalled the memories of the diverted timeline. That had been relatively painless, scales simply falling from her eyes, a glamor broken. This was more akin to someone using a hammer and chisel to open up her skull and rearrange things.

This was someone mucking about with time.

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><p>Peter and September appeared in another hotel room, one that Peter recognized instantly. He had spent a year living here with Walter at the FBI's expense, until his father had felt independent enough to agree to rent the house just off Harvard's campus.<p>

Odd, how much he missed it, now. Spending so much in close proximity with Walter had forced him to start appreciating his father.

The room was dim, and Walter was asleep in the big double bed, his snores filling the room.

"Why are we here?" Peter asked.

"Shhhh..." September hissed, raising a finger to his lips.

"Why? Walter can't hear us..."

"Wait for it..." replied The Observer.

Peter shut up. He did not have to wait long. The door to the room opened and his past self swept into the room, followed by Olivia.

"Walter! Hey Walter!" he saw himself say, and clap his hands together, "Wake up!"

Walter startled awake, stared at the two young people before him.

"Oh, you two want to use the room!" Walter said.

Behind his past self, where he couldn't have seen back then, Olivia's face lit up, then she averted her eyes downward in amused embarrassment.

Peter gasped and pointed.

"She actually considered that!" he exclaimed, "I knew she was into me back then!"

"There it is!" exclaimed September, and bent down to retrieve his wallet from the floor, where it had fallen years ago.

Peter watched, annoyed at the interruption, as The Observer placed the wallet into the back pocket of his trousers. Then he actually smiled at Peter.

"Now I just have to find my hat!" September said.

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, it's on your head." he said drily. Indeed, it had been on his bald pate the whole time.

Peter turned back to the scene before them, and found past-Olivia looking directly at him, her piercing emerald stare sending a chill down his spine, and making him feel even more naked, if that were possible.

Olivia drew her gun and leveled the sights on the Observer.

"Stop messing around in Peters mind!" she demanded.

As both past-Walter and past-Peter gasped in astonishment, her green eyes flickered over present-Peter's nude form.

"Or at least let him put on some clothes!" she added.


	4. Chapter 4

Olivia glared over the sights of her pistol at the Observer, while everyone else in the hotel room freaked out.

Past-Peter seized the lamp from the nightstand by the bed and crouched beside his father protectively, seemingly prepared to beat someone senseless, whether The Observer or his future (present?) self, she couldn't tell.

Walter bounced up and down on the bed and clapped his hands in childish joy.

"Oh, this is the best trip ever!" he exclaimed.

Present (future?) Peter reeled in agony as his memories rearranged themselves to include this odd incident in his past.

Olivia understood now. The migraines had not been a direct effect of the Cortexiphan treatments. They were a symptom of someone moving through time and treating her past - and her memories of it - like they were a child's messy room, to be rearranged whenever the adults felt like it.

Every time a change was made to her past, her memories rearranged themselves. No wonder she had headaches.

She briefly considered simply shooting The Observer here, in the past, and accepting whatever the consequences would be. Olivia was tired of being manipulated.

"Olivia, what the hell is going on?" said both past and present iterations of Peter, in unison. Then they glared at each other.

Finally, The Observer spoke.

"I am not...messing around with his mind." Baldy actually sounded hurt at the accusation.

"No, not directly, but you've rearranged events in his past, and consequently his memory of them in the present. Just like you do to me."

Past Peter looked around warily.

"Olivia, I have no idea what you're talking about, but I think Walter must have dosed up with something..."

The Observer used her moment of distraction to make himself and Present Peter disappear again.

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><p>"What the hell was that about?" Peter demanded.<p>

Peter and The Observer had reappeared in the park by the Charles River. It was night, and Peter had no way of telling whether it was past, present or future.

He didn't really care, because he was as pissed off as he'd ever been in his life. And he was still naked.

September turned away and started walking beside the river. Peter followed and continued to pepper him with questions.

"Is what Olivia said, true? Have you been manipulating her memories? Is that why everyone forgot about me? Can I get some clothes? Have you just fucked up a Christmas Carol scenario?"

The Observer stopped and turned around, stiffly.

"You are annoying." he announced, like it was news.

Peter caught his shoulder, preventing him from turning away.

"Tell me what's going on!"

September looked him up and down.

"For some time now, I have been attempting to fix the mistake I made, by distracting Walternate from finding the cure to your childhood disease."

September pulled an old fashioned pocket watch from his pants, checked the time.

"The difficulty arises from the fact that actions have consequences. Every change I make, causes unforeseen changes to the timeline, driving it further and further away from it's original path. I did not know it at the time, but both the Bishop and Dunham bloodlines are necessary to my continued existence."

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"What are you saying?", he asked, suspiciously.

"I am your great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-"

The Observer gasped a breath, before continuing.

"-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandson."

September stood panting and looked up at his distant ancestor.

Peter didn't look at all surprised.

"Black sheep." he muttered.

September looked at his pocket watch again.

"I have an important meeting to attend. This is what you would call your present, or near enough. I will contact you..."

September didn't see the fist that collided with his slack jaw and snapped his head to the side. The Observer spun completely around and flopped stiffly to ground, unconscious.

Peter glowered down at his annoying descendant. Then he smirked.

"Finally, some clothes." he said.

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><p>Olivia's consciousness snapped back into her present day body, and she opened her eyes and looked around. She was still sitting on the bench in the park by the river. It was night, so some time had definitely passed, while she had moved her awareness back to the past.<p>

She groaned and leaned forward to put her head in her hands, fighting nausea. Another migraine was threatening, as her memories rearranged themselves to insert the one she'd just added. Olivia guessed she had about half an hour before it took full hold and made the most trivial of tasks agonizing.

She took several deep breaths to calm herself, and looked about for the shimmering path. It was not far away. She sighed and clutching her weapon, set off toward the lab.

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><p>Peter Bishop lurched though the night towards the lab, carrying a naked Observer over his shoulder. Wearing September's poorly fitting grey suit, shirttails hanging, tie askew, fedora threatening to fall off his head, he looked like a reject from a Laurel and Hardy movie.<p>

The effects of Thiopental and a lack of Red Bull were taking their toll. Each step was harder than the last, as a coma threatened to send his consciousness into oblivion.

Peter was dimly aware of the occasional Harvard student pointing and laughing at them. It was a weekend, and they apparently assumed that he and his naked companion were simply two drunken frat boys.

With a prodigious effort of putting one foot in front of the other, Peter eventually found himself at the outer door of his father's lab. He lunged through the door and stood swaying.

"I'm home, everybody!" he announced, drunkenly. Lincoln Lee and Astrid rushed to assist him, while Walter merely looked relieved.

The Observer woke at that moment, looked around at the interior of the lab, like an automaton.

"Put me down." he said.

With Lincoln's assistance, Peter put September back on his feet, and everyone stood looking at each other until Olivia burst through the doors into the lab.

Peering through a migraine-induced haze, she was startled by the image of a man in a grey suit before her, and raised her gun.

"You bastard!" she hissed.

Lee hit her arm just before she fired, deflecting her shot. The bullet ricocheted off several of the brick walls inside the lab, until it pierced September's chest.

The Observer stared down at the bloody hole in his chest.

"Not again." he said.


	5. Chapter 5

_And the conclusion. I toned down the comedy and got schmoopy in this one. Thanks to everyone for reading. If I were true to the show, I'd give them one minute of happiness, and then something terrible would happen.  
><em>

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><p>The lab was silent as everyone present stared at the bald, naked man with the sucking chest wound. Seconds passed by slowly, feeling like minutes or hours.<p>

The spell was broken by Peter emitting a loud groan, startling everyone out of their daze. He puddled slowly onto the floor as his higher brain functions started shutting down, one by one. Walter, of all people, was the only one with the presence of mind to lunge forward and catch him, preventing him from striking his head on the cold concrete floor of the lab.

September used that moment of distraction to disappear again.

Olivia reeled as the migraine she was fighting started to overwhelm her. Astrid took her elbow and guided her to a nearby stool.

Walter pressed his fingers into the hollow under Peter's ear, to check his pulse. Then he pulled out a penlight and checked his pupil response.

"Oh dear. I believe he's having a seizure - and simultaneously slipping into a coma. Ester! I'm going to need, um, two car batteries, some number ten electrical wire and two alligator clips!"

"No!" interrupted Lincoln, "No home electroshock therapy. I'm calling 911. Olivia, you look like you could use another trip to the hospital, too."

Olivia nodded her consent. Her head felt like it might explode.

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><p>Peter's awareness - for lack of a better term - floated outside of his body, above the heads of Walter, Olivia, Astrid and Lincoln.<p>

He watched with curiosity as an argument broke out between Walter and Lincoln, apparently over what to do about Peter himself. Meanwhile, Olivia crouched beside his body, and held his hand, and Astrid was shouting into her cell phone.

"Hello again." said a familiar monotone, startling him.

"Uh...hello. Where are you? I can't see you." Peter replied.

Somehow he knew he wasn't actually speaking in words right now. That capability was lacking in whatever state he found himself in.

The Observer's disembodied voice spoke again.

"I have temporarily moved your consciousness outside of the flow of time so we can communicate. This state is somewhat similar to what you experienced after you were erased. I hope this is less distressing, though."

Peter watched as paramedics burst into the lab and started working on his body.

"I don't have much time..." The Observer started, but was interrupted by Peter being sarcastic.

"If you can move outside of time, don't you have all the time in the world?" he asked.

He thought it was a good question. Apparently his invisible companion didn't.

"Please! No more...sarcasm. I am dying. It is true I can exist in this state indefinitely, but once I leave it, I will expire."

Peter felt a stab of remorse in his chest. He watched the paramedics strap his body into a gurney. Olivia was apparently refusing to leave his side, or even let go of his hand.

"I'm sorry. I have a lot to be sorry for. Am I dying too?"

"No." The Observer replied, "You will survive this. You have to."

Peter tried to nod, but it was difficult, not having a head to nod with. He watched his body hauled out on the gurney, felt a tug of some invisible force that brought him along.

"I've made some last adjustments to the time line. This is as near to the original as is possible. In order for me to have existed - and for those changes to be made permanent - you must reproduce with this Olivia Dunham."

Peter chuckled.

"I'll get to work on that, right away."

"Good. Thank you. And goodbye."

* * *

><p>Peter awoke slowly, groaning and moaning for a full minute before he opened his eyes.<p>

The light was bright enough to hurt his head, and he blinked and squinted until his eyes adjusted.

Unsurprisingly, he was in a hospital, lying in a bed hooked up to a plethora of monitors that made occasional beeping noises.

Equally unsurprisingly, Olivia was in the room with him. She sat in a chair next to his bed, legs propped up on another, typing on her laptop. She wore jeans and a sweatshirt, hair up in a messy bun, wore her reading glasses, and she was just about the most beautiful thing Peter had ever seen.

"Olivia." Peter said, trying to sit up.

She closed the laptop, put it on the floor under her chair and turned to face him, studying his face for a minute before speaking.

"Who are you?" she asked, her features blank.

Peter collapsed back onto the bed in shock. No, not again, he thought. I can't take anymore.

Olivia burst into laughter.

"I'm sorry, Peter." she said, reaching for his hand, "...I couldn't resist."

Peter shook his head. "Not funny. Seriously, if you want me to start spouting gibberish about the end times, and retire to a cabin in the woods, that's how you do it."

"I'm sorry." she repeated. She pulled his hand up and kissed it, then grasped it in both of hers.

"You were unconscious for two days." she responded to his unasked question, "The Thiopental coma you were somehow staving off hit you with a vengeance, and then you had a seizure, a bad one."

Peter chuckled.

"Rollercoasters and Red Bull." he said.

Even to his own ears, he sounded a little hysterical. Growing concerned, Olivia leaned forward and reached out tentatively. When he didn't flinch, or pull away, she caressed his stubbly check to comfort him.

"When I said before, that I remembered everything, it wasn't exactly true. But now I do." she said.

Peter looked at her intently. "What do you mean?"

Olivia avoided his gaze, stared down at their clasped hands.

"After Walter's trial, we took a long drive up the coast, just the two of us, staying at bed and breakfasts as we found them. You proposed to me on a bluff looking over the ocean. You never told me where you got the ring."

She sniffled. Then looked up at his face, eyes shining.

"We bought a big house in New York, too big really, but we agreed on that one luxury. We needed a room for Ella, because she wanted to spend the summers with us. You always wanted kids, but I thought it'd be irresponsible, when the world was falling apart around us."

Olivia paused, distress evident on her face.

"I even remember Walternate getting out of the back of a van with a gun..."

Peter sat up and pulled her into a tight embrace, and held her for a long time. When they finally let each other go, Olivia wiped her eyes and continued.

"It's very confusing. I remember a lot of things I know never happened, and yet they did. They happened to us, somewhen. Oh, and Walter still doesn't remember. That confuses me."

Peter shrugged. "Maybe it's better that way. He won't remember prison, and my destroying the other side. And I can get to know him again, without the baggage we had the first time."

"So what now?" Olivia asked.

Peter smiled.

"Well, it looks like we get a second chance. We can try again. I have to warn you, I'm still a massive pain in the ass."

"Trust me, I remember." Olivia said with a smirk.

Then she leaned forward and kissed him, and her lips were the sweetest thing he'd ever tasted.


End file.
